


Tempering the Warlord Prince

by fawatson



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21917680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: The men are left behind when the coven go on girls' night out.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Tempering the Warlord Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snarkasaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkasaurus/gifts).



> **Request:** What would a "ladies day out" in Amdarh look like? Am I the only one that feels like Surreal and Wilhelmina might become a weird kind of besties? Anything relating to a slice of life, special event, silliness you may come up with would make me happy! I know I put down four ladies, but really, if you don't include them all, I'm okay with that. I'd love to see what would happen if all four of them were wandering around...say...Amdarh together or having a slumber party (omg. do you think they could convince Kaelas to let them paint his claws?!), but if whatever speaks to you doesn't involve everyone, I'm okay with that!
> 
>  **Author’s Notes:** This is set after Jaenelle has formed her Court; and just before Jaenelle saves Marian’s life. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters and make no profit by them.

Saetan looked up from his ledger to look at the Eyrien who paced in front of his desk. 

“For Darkness’ sake, _won’t_ you sit down.”

Lucivar snarled. “I should be with her. I am first Escort, and she has _no right_ to go to Amdarh without me.” 

“A male who serves has only the rights that protocol and his Queen allow, and you know full well there is nothing in either which prevents Jaenelle from visiting town without an escort.” 

Lucivar growled; Saetan growled back but said nothing, merely pointed at the door. 

He shook his head and gave a deep sigh after his son had left. This would not be the last complaint he heard. In fact, if he knew Lucivar…. He took out his watch and noted the time, before turning back to the ledger. 

A few minutes later there came a quiet knock before the door was pushed open slightly Morton’s head peaked round. 

“Are you busy, sir?” 

“Would it matter if I were?” Saetan asked softly when Morton and Aaron entered. He looked at his watch: 10 minutes. That was even sooner than he’d expected. 

“We thought you might be ready for a break, so we asked Beale to bring tea and nut cakes.”

“I would have thought the rest of you would like some too,” Saetan suggested. 

“Khary and Chaosti have just gone to visit Luthvian,” said Morton. 

“I hadn’t been aware they had plans to pay a call to Luthvian this afternoon – or indeed any afternoon.” 

“Something came up quite suddenly,” Aaron explained, “and they decided they needed to consult with a Black Widow, and since Jaenelle took Karla and Gabrielle with her….” 

“They could have consulted Tersa,” Saetan offered, “I am sure Lucivar would have been quite willing to introduce them.” 

“Yes, but then–”

“They would have had my son with them, when they were in fact trying to avoid him, and could think of no more sure-fire way of doing that than visiting his mother.”

Morton had the decency to look embarrassed, but Aaron just shrugged. “I knew you’d understand.” 

With impeccable timing, Beale entered, bringing with him a trolley of ham and tomato sandwiches, berries in cream, nut cakes soaked in rum syrup, and a thin envelope. 

“No tea?” asked Saetan, as he used the letter opener Jaenelle had given him last Winsol to slit open the envelope. 

“The young Princes did request tea, but I thought sherry might be more welcome – yarbarah for yourself my Lord. 

Deftly Beale mixed lamb’s blood with wine and held the goblet for a moment to warm it; but, at an urgent gesture from Saetan, he quickly passed it to the High Lord who was frowning blackly at the page he was reading. 

“I noticed the letter came from Amdarh; I trust nothing is wrong with the young Queens?” 

Morton, who had been stuffing a nut cake into his mouth, choked and coughed as his food went down the wrong way; Aaron who had just taken a sip of wine, jerked suddenly, spilling it over his lap. The unperturbable Beale calmly handed Aaron a napkin while thumping Morton on the back.

“Not _wrong_ precisely,” Saetan replied, “just a little surprising.” 

“I see,” said Beale, bowing, “though if I may hazard an opinion, with these Ladies one comes to expect the unexpected.” 

“Very true,” agreed Saetan, and with a flick of his fingers he dismissed the butler and handed Aaron the letter, whose brows rose as he read, then passed it to Morton, who began to chuckle. 

“I see Karla’s influence in _that_ trick.” 

“Possibly – and undoubtedly it was justified by the bad behaviour of the young Warlords from Little Terreille toward Amdarh's landen shopkeepers. However, I suggest the two of you make a visit of your own and see what you can do to smooth the Queens' path back to SaDiablo Hall. After all, they said they were going for a ladies’ night out and it is now the next day.”

Satan returned to his duties, but unable to concentrate, pushed the paperwork to one side and was up a ladder selecting a book about the history of Craft, when the door to his study crashed open and Lucivar strode in. 

“You sent them to Amdarh instead of me,” he snarled. “Someone was troubling my Queen, and she asked for help, and you sent lighter jewels! I hold the Ebon-gray; I am the strongest; you should have sent me!” His shout shook the hall with his frustration. 

“First of all,” Saetan replied calmly as he descended the ladder slowly, “the Queens neither asked for nor needed help. Secondly, I hardly think Opal and Red can be called lighter jewels; and finally,” he gathered himself and stood squarely in front of his most volatile son, “I am the strongest not you, as you would do well to remember!” His volume rose to a shout that eclipsed that of Lucivar’s and echoed as it reverberated through the hall. Lucivar sat down somewhat abruptly. 

“High Lord?” said Beale from the doorway, “you called?” 

“Beale, didn’t you say earlier that Mrs Beale thought she needed more kindling for the hall’s fireplaces. Prince Lucivar was just volunteering to rectify the hall’s sad lack of adequate firewood.” 

“Thank you for your service Prince Yaslana; I know Mrs Beale greatly appreciates it.” Beale bowed as he held the door open for a seething Lucivar to exit. 

Saetan sank into a wingchair beside the fireplace and closed his eyes. He opened them a few a minutes later to see Khary bending solicitously over him. 

“Are you all right, sir?” 

“Fine – or I would be if you lot would leave me in peace.” 

Khary backed off, looking wary. “Chaosti and I heard you had a letter from Jaenelle.” 

“Then you heard wrong,” Saetan said, somewhat testily. “It was a short note from Lady Zhara telling me of a prank Jaenelle and Karla played on some visiting louts from Little Terreille who knocked over a wool stall in the market. 

“Prank?” 

“They turned three young men into one giant skein of jewel-coloured wool which they gave to Kaelas to play with. I understand from Zhara that, once the wool was untangled, the young men returned to their natural state – somewhat scratched – but with no serious injuries. I thought some diplomacy might be needed so I sent Aaron and Morton.” 

“I see.” 

“And how did your afternoon with Lady Luthvian go? I trust it was productive?” 

“We did _go_ ,” said Chaosti, “but we did not actually arrive; and we returned to be told Prince Lucivar was practicing woodcraft.” 

“I see,” said Saetan, “well I expect your friends _will_ have arrived. What remains to be seen is whether they will stay or return, with anyone or alone. Meanwhile, I suggest you see what Mrs Beale is offering for supper, and remember we dress for it here.”

Khary and Chaosti looked at one another hesitantly. 

“Remember to close the door on your way out.” Saetan felt sure he must be developing a headache, but he was not to enjoy solitude for long. All too soon the warning gong sounded for the evening meal and he went to change from sweater into a more formal jacket. 

There was nothing wrong with Mrs Beale’s cookery. The soup course was followed by roast prime rib, accompanied by an assortment of vegetables. However, no one felt much like eating. Lucivar’s seething temper, barely controlled during the main course, erupted when Morton and Aaron arrived with the cheese and biscuits. 

“You left them alone!” he yelled. “Young vulnerable Queens with no one to look out for them! Cat without any protector!” 

The dining room grew suddenly icy, but no colder than Saetan’s voice, “I hardly think one should discount Kaelas, Smoke, and Jaal as protectors.” He pointed to the door. 

Once Lucivar had left the room, golden eyes turned to Morton who shivered; but Aaron simply shrugged. 

“They said they planned to have something called a girls’ sleepover and men were not allowed; and Karla pushed us out the door and Jaenelle locked it so there really was nothing we could do except come home.”

“They did say they will be back tomorrow,” Morton added. 

Saetan gave a deep sigh and nodded. There was nothing to do except wait. 

“Port from Dharo, gentleman?” As usual Beale’s timing was impeccable. 

The next day dawned with blue skies and sunshine. There was a tacit agreement amongst the men to find individual pursuits. All were feeling the tension that came from knowing their Queens were not with them where they could serve while keeping a watchful eye over what they were doing, alert for any potential enemies. Not _alone,_ not precisely; they had one another, and both individually and combined they were powerful. But they had no _males_ with them (human ones at least); and Queens ought to have escorts at the very least. Lucivar was the most obviously edgy, which was understandable, given the history of attacks on Jaenelle when she was drawn outside the oversight of her family. But Aaron was anxious too; he and Kalush were newly married and this was their first time apart since their wedding. Not to mention, Kalush’s moon-time was in a few days and his Warlord Prince’s instinct to protect, never low, was rising in tandem with her cycle. He had been sufficiently reassured by seeing her yesterday to step away when she asked; but the need to have her near was growing stronger. She had promised to return today; he would trust in that. If she broke that promise…. Aaron was now helping the gardener by making mulch. 

The ladies arrived at midday, falling over themselves in laughter as they fell out of the Coach on the front drive. 

“I didn’t know there was a landing web so close to the hall,” Khary remarked. 

“There wasn’t before,” replied Saetan, “and my guess is there won’t be when you are ready to leave. Witch makes her own.” 

“Papa, we had such a wonderful time!” exclaimed Jaenelle, throwing her arms round him exuberantly. Her joy was infectious and his stiff face began to smile.

“Kiss, kiss,” Karla’s eyes twinkled with a wicked glint as she pecked his cheek for real. She at least knew what they’d put him through. 

Gabrielle and Morghann were twirling in front of dazed spouses, showing off matching peacock blue outfits. 

Saetan looked across at Kalush, who stood demurely before Aaron enduring his fussing, and felt something which had been twisted tight within him for three days loosen and relax. 

“Mrs Beale says a light luncheon is ready.” Beale spoke from his place at the front door, quietly, as befitted a butler, but his craft-enhanced, voice reached down the steps and beyond. 

“Oh, good! I’m absolutely famished,” announced Jaenelle. “We stayed up late last night and slept in so we missed breakfast.” 

In short order, hungry young women demolished the cold collation of thinly sliced beef (Saetan recognised leftover prime rib from the night before), fancy breads and braided rolls with fresh butter, plus various salads and cheeses. They were not phased by the brooding presence of Lucivar who had joined the table and contributed nothing to the conversation while he steadily kept pace with Jaenelle as she ate a mountain of food. 

“A dessert trolley has been put in the sitting room, ladies,” announced Beale when little remained on the table. 

Jaenelle served tea while the other women called in various parcels which they opened to show what they had bought on their raid of the shops. It mollified and soothed to realise that each had clearly remembered the men they had left behind and bought a special gift for him. After a while, Kalush took over the tea pot while Jaenelle presented Saetan with a beautifully wrought set of brass scissors and magnifying glass. 

“For your old age, when the half-moon glasses aren’t enough,” she said, her demure tone of voice belying the cheekiness of her words. He simply rolled his eyes. 

“And for Lucivar,” she crossed to the fireplace against which Lucivar was leaning, glowering at the frivolity, “I had to search high and low to find just the right gift.” 

She called in a simple leather box which she handed to him. He opened it to find a fine filigree silver ring set with tiny sparkling ebon-gray jewels in the pattern of a wolf. He frowned at the trinket, then at her. 

“It’s for your hair,” she explained. 

“You put yourself at risk so you could buy me hair jewellery?” he snarled. 

“I wasn’t at risk,” she replied calmly. 

“But _you_ might be if you don’t change your attitude,” Karla said pointedly to Lucivar. 

It was the spark which ignited his smouldering temper; he turned to her and screamed. A sudden gust blew open the French doors and he leapt into the air and flew over their heads in a rush of wind and out toward the distant sky. 

“I thought he’d be pleased I thought of him,” Jaenelle sounded crestfallen. 

“I’m sure he will be once he calms down,” Morton reassured. 

“The others were pleased with my presents.”

“Others, witch-child?” Saetan asked. 

“Kaelas and Smoke and Jaal.” 

“What did you give them?” 

“Special collars, and yesterday, after we got back from supper, we painted their nails with polish to match their jewels.” 

Saetan drew in a deep breath; looking round he saw his shock mirrored on the faces of the rest of the men in the room. Greater love hath no kindred….

Tactfully the others withdrew, leaving Jaenelle to Saetan. 

“I know you don’t have many opportunities to play since you formed your Court,” Saetan offered, as he sat beside her on the sofa and pulled her head against his shoulder, “but did you have to go without an escort? You must have known what that would do to Lucivar’s temper.” 

Jaenelle smiled sadly, “But Amdarh is safe, and we had the kindred with us for protection, and we could just be women, for once, having fun, not Queens with Escorts.” 

“Lucivar did not understand that you needed that.” 

“Morton understood, and Aaron, even though Kalush is only one day away from her moon-time.” 

“But Lucivar is not Morton; he is a Warlord Prince and wears the Ebon-Gray.”

“I didn’t mean to ruffle him the wrong way.” 

“Warlord Princes without wives are notoriously temperamental,” Saetan admitted. “It will undoubtedly become easier when Lucivar finds a lady of his own to fuss over. But until then, witch-child, if you could remember to _try_ not to ruffle him _too_ much I am sure we all would appreciate it.”

“Warlord Princes who have wives are even-tempered?” Jaenelle was clearly surprised. 

“Perhaps not exactly _even_ -tempered,” Saetan explained. “Let us say less _quick_ to temper. 

“I see….” Jaenelle sounded thoughtful. 

“I need to go up and dress.” Saetan said, “remember Sylvia and I are going to a play tonight. You were invited to join us, if you want to come.” 

“Thank you, Papa, but no thank you,” she kissed him and smiled. He mistrusted that glint of mischief in her eyes but said nothing as she turned at the door to his study to add, “I shall be in my workroom, trying to find a solution to Lucivar’s problem.”


End file.
